love me like a monster.

You asked me to do another one of those impossible things, and I said a reluctant yes, with no intention of doing whatsoever what you asked, even if I could help it.
Stop worrying about me.
I mean how could I... when this kind of things concerning you is like breathing, involuntary and needed to live.
Stop looking at me.
I know what you meant by saying these things, and besides I also know the reasons why you continually say them almost as an afterthought, but your voice trembles ever so slightly, almost imperciptible that sometimes I think it's all in my mind. Then you turn away, as I continue go on looking.
Stop thinking about me.
When sometimes it's all I have; and when, during my days off it's all I do. Lack of sleep is also beautiful sometimes.

I wonder if you say these things because sometimes you have nothing else to say. I know I have those kind of moments too. Or perhaps it is just that mild kind of exasperation, with things that we sometimes imagine to be possible.

These are just the everyday things, everyday affairs that take me back and the daily order of
circumstances that I cannot find my way out of, and I'd always want to be lost, always; while I'm in the longest meantime that you are not here. Shampoo scent and all. Not here. At All.

I sometimes I take a lot coffee breaks but not for the coffee. Restrooms are okay too, more so during graveyard shifts and there is small window there where I can see the darkness and between the neon and the few cars wandering below, I wonder where the horizon ends or where the sky begins. Then it all comes back to you as I see my reflection on the double glass window, hazy in the dim light of the restroom.

Stop being this way.
Don't you see, it's futile; besides your smile after is always a dead giveaway.

You are like the smell of cotton candy that has permanently stuck in my memory, I guess.